Ars Moriendi
by BeastlyRedemption
Summary: Soccer AU. Bella Swan moves to Forks, the soccer star, everybody's beloved, glittering girl. Rosalie, however, isn't convinced. She ruins the schedule, the perfection in Rosalie's life, knocks her on her ass and leaves her breathless. She has walls, has her defenses, but somehow Bella knows where to kick to knock them down. Rosalie / Bella.
1. the art of dying

**Hoo boy here we go. Soccer AU. This might not be a permanent thing so let me know what you think I guess. Also, first half is Bella, but I plan for this to be mostly Rosalie pov.**

* * *

" _Write about an empty birdcage. Write about the hinges. Describe them as dry knuckles. Write how I become a moan." - Elaina M. Ellis_

 _..._

Fire is inside of her thighs, acid leaking out around her breath and defeat coming off of her voice. She balances herself on her legs staring at grass blades soaked in blood and sweat. "You'll break us."

Tennis shoes stop in front of her cleats. "Only the ones that can be broken."

Bella grits her teeth, feeling bile rub the back of her throat and stands up. Stone face on and lips shut tight, arms behind her back. Her coach speaks again, an odd praise in the woman's voice as she strokes Bella's hair back behind her ear. " But you've always been made of marble."

…

Later that night, she's bending over the edge of her toilet, barfing up whatever she's had for dinner.

" _You'll break us."_

" _Only the ones that can be broken. But you've always been made of marble."_

Bella takes a shower with her throat still burning and skin stinging. Dirt and blood come off of her knees and stomach until they blend together. She couldn't tell the difference anyway.

 _Made of marble. More like made of blood._

* * *

 _Rose_

The girl was made of cleats and a soccer ball.

Every kick landed in the net, every pass hit its mark.

And everybody watched in awe as she ran, smile on her face, breathing hard into the air.

She was born for soccer.

...

Bella moved to Forks sometime last month.

And she is already adored.

Faster than Rosalie could snarl, Bella grouped in with friends who hated Rosalie and her friends, and stole her brother's heart along the way. But Rosalie could tell she didn't care for Edward, or how her friends glare at Rosalie every time in Biology. No, Bella only cared for soccer. She only cared for the angle of the ball whenever she tapped it with her foot, or how to simultaneously defend the ball when she was offense.

Rosalie _hates_ her.

Because the soccer season hasn't even started yet, in fact it's weeks away from starting, but Bella kicks the ball down the hallway to each class anyway, rolls it with the insoles of her foot under the tables, and then juggles the ball to her next class. None of the teachers stop her because they've seen what Bella could do on the field.

It's become a lunchtime activity. Everybody goes outside, sits on the bleachers, and cheers Bella on as she practices.

It almost always embarrasses the girl, painting her face with a light red.

Rosalie doesn't ever stare. Of course not. Not even when Bells grins as she slams the ball perfectly into the net. Not even as her giggle takes sighs away from stupid, pinning, teenagers. It's her personal belief that all sports are just fucking stupid, and that anybody who dedicated their time and effort into something so trivial obviously didn't have a lot going for them in life.

She, at least, surrounds herself with the only smart people in Forks.

"Jesus." Lauren sneers, mouth twisted in an ugly manner. "These people act like God himself shit Bella out."

. . .

"I like her." Alice says offhandedly one day, watching as Rosalie's grip on the steering wheel tightens. "I have her for English, and she's super smart! Especially since Mrs. Howard managed to wrestle the ball away from her."

Edward sits upright in his seat from behind Rosalie. "You have a class with Bella? Does she ever talk about me? Can you introduce us?"

Rosalie is mid-eye roll when Alice speaks again. "No, Ed. Bella isn't a celebrity, you know?"

"God!" Rosalie shouts, Alice jumps in her seat. "That's what I've been saying since she's moved here! Bella this, Bella that! You'd think she was in some sort of boy band with the way people act around her. She could murder somebody in the hallway and the teachers would swoon."

Alice rolls her eyes. "You're jealous."

"Am I?" A haughty smirk from the blonde. "There's nothing to be jealous of. A monkey could be good at soccer. She isn't some deity that created the sport." Rosalie glances at Alice. "Her friends don't like us you know? They label us as the 'popular ones.' They sneer at us Alice. She may be smart but she hates us."

Alice frowns, and crosses her arms. "No, Bella isn't like that."

"Oh? And you would know? Are you two BFFs? Do you braid the other's hair and talk about boys?" Rosalie shifts into neutral and pulls on her parking brake rather harshly.

Alice levels her with a glare that could freeze all of Antarctica again, she unbuckles and gets out, making sure to slam the door and rub against the cherry red paint.

Rosalie winces. That was sure to leave scratches.

"Do you have to be such an insufferable asshole all the time?" Edward hisses at her.

Rosalie sticks her chin in the air. "Get out of my car. You can catch a ride home with Emmett today." She hears a scoff and another slam of her door.

 _God,_ she thinks, _do these animals have no respect for my car?_

…

Her steps don't falter when she walks into Biology. They don't falter when Alice refuses to greet her. They don't falter when one of the football players whistle after her.

She makes eye contact with deep brown eyes, and a slim figure sitting at her desk. She clenches her jaw. She never asks to suffer but she still does.

"Good morning, Rosalie." Her voice is soft, stark contrast to her favored sport. Rosalie's steps falter now.

She feels the eyes of Angela and Mike glaring into her back.

Rosalie stares into Bella's eyes as she moves her chair to the furthest end of the table.

Bella gives her a sad smile. "I would walk the ends of the earth to figure out what I did to you to offend you so greatly."

Rosalie groans under her breath, turning her head sharply away from the girl in jersey and a high ponytail. She feels heat flood her cheeks. She would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the attention she was receiving.

Instead of answering, Rosalie places her notebook to her left side, and her pencil and pen on the right. Perfect. Everything was perfect.

She ignores the curious tilt to her lab partner's head.

"Maybe one day you'll say something to me." Bella chuckles softly. "Obviously today is not that day."

…

Her room is nothing short of precise and organized. Her books and clothes were all color coordinated. Her chair sat at a perfect angle between her desk and the window. Not a speck of dust graced any surface of her room.

Perfect. Just like she wanted it, just like it had to be.

She got home earlier than the rest did, but that doesn't mean she misses how Edward comes bursting into the house.

"I talked to Bella today. I think I might ask her out to homecoming."

Rosalie positively wants to die at this moment in time. Frantically, she starts to search for a pair of headphones. It's almost orgasmic when she places them over her head and a podcast comes on.

She doesn't hear Edward and his folly, or how Alice stops at her door, and considers knocking.

All that matters to her is the leather ear cups against her head and the darkening sky.

She had a schedule, one that was perfect.

Heaven and Hell be damned if she lets Bella Swan ruin that.

* * *

 **Go follow my tumblr if you havent. I post updates there and the such. beastly-redemption on tumblr**


	2. the art of torture and whiskey

**Sorry it took so long. Anyway here's chapter two.**

 **In which Bella knows she's hot and Rosalie is a poor suffering baby with internal homophobia and an addiction to her friend Jack Daniels**

 **That being said. TW for alcohol, homophobia, and some fucked up stuff I'm not sure if I wanna add in the story.**

* * *

" _Fall in love with someone who tastes like adventure but looks like the calm, beautiful morning after a terrible storm." - Nikita Gill_

 _..._

The girl continues to gnaw on her nerves. Always her and her, "Hello, Rosalie." "Good morning, I hope you had a good night last night." "Are you sleeping well? You seem kind of tired. I can do the rest of the work if you'd like."

Bella is always met with a glare. But somehow, she shoots her with an immediate grin after, Rosalie thinks Bella doesn't really care all that much.

Horrifying.

Her only safe haven is at home, where the pictures on her walls are perfectly three inches away from each other, her music library is perfectly color coordinated. She spends her time methodically doing her homework, completing by how the subjects line up alphabetically.

Her only safe haven is at home, where she doesn't have to see messy ponytails, a crooked smile, and jerseys that show a little too much toned shoulder muscles.

…

She touches the doorknob three times before she's able to open the door and walk out into sterile hallways that gleam too brightly for her tastes.

She's been volunteering at the hospital as soon as she was old enough too, eyes drawn to the scrambling nurses and bleeding patients, the need to _help_ overwhelmed her, body and soul.

So she begged Carlisle, begged him to let her sit in on some of his surgeries. She watched through glass, fascinated by the precision of the cuts, the furrow in Carlisle's eyebrows.

She went home that day and tried to read every book her father had medical related. She couldn't understand any of it, but stared at the drawings of bare muscle until she could pronounce the latin terms from memory.

She's been working _so hard_ for this. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, perfect everything, perfect, perfect, perfect.

She just needs to work a little harder, needs to work a little harder to ignore cool brown eyes and pink lips.

Shaking her head, she walks faster, pace quicker. All she needs is focus and consistency. Easy, easy, easy.

"Rose!" An immediate smile brightens her face at the warm, familiar voice. Her days here are so much easier when she can spend it with Carlisle.

"Hey, Dad-" She cuts off short, quick horror filling her face.

 _Are you fucking kidding me?_

She never asks to suffer but she still _does_.

"Woah! Hey, Rosalie!" Bells shouts, grin too wide, scrubs too snug. Rosalie sees the faint outline of muscles rippling under the thin fabric.

 _Is this actually happening?_

Carlisle is nothing but pleased, in that moment, Rosalie doesn't think anything could ruin his day. "You two already know each other?"

"Yep! We actually have a few classes together!" Bells shoots her a shit eating grin.

"Oh, perfect," Carlisle claps his hands together. "Well, Rose, I was going to ask if you could show Bella around? It's her first day here."

 _Am I dead? Is this actually happening to me? In real life? Am I having a stroke?_

But Carlisle looks hopeful, happy, maybe. She knows why. He thinks she's found a friend.

So she swallows her pride and bitten skin and says, "Of course, Isabella if you'd follow me, I'll show you to the staff lounge."

The look of pride and happiness on Carlisle's face makes it almost worth the agony of seeing Bella smile at her, with that stupid smile, like Rosalie had just put the sun in the sky.

…

Almost.

"How are you?" Bella bounds up next to her, having no trouble keeping up with Rosalie's fast pace. Rosalie keeps her mouth shut. "Oh, you're not talking to me again."

Rosalie pretends disappointment isn't soaking into Bella's words.

"Well, that's okay! I have plenty to talk about."

And _she does._ She talks about her relationship with soccer, and how she's loved the sport ever since she touched the ball back when she was five. "Although," Bella says, "I don't think I'll pursue it for my career, I really do want to be a doctor, but I don't know what kind. Maybe an osteopathic doctor? And then specialize in sport medicine? I don't know."

Rosalie pretends that she's not interested in this, too.

"How about you?" Bella waits a pause. "Oh that's really cool! I never would have figured you for that field!"

Rosalie rolls her eyes so hard she's momentarily scared they got stuck in her head. She stops at the staff lounge, points to the sign.

She turns around and quickly steps away, turning through a maze she knew Bella couldn't find her way through.

…

At home, Rosalie takes all of her books out of her bookshelf. Rearranges them by height. Doesn't like it. Does it again. And again. And again.

…

Rosalie stares through the TV screen, mind going over the countless of paper cuts on her hands. _One, two, three, three, three. One, two, three, three, three._

A knock sounds; Rosalie moves her mouth to answer, and Alice pours in, apologies placed in the corners of her mouth.

"Hey, Rose, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for snapping at you," Alice speaks quickly, rushed. She isn't the one who usually says sorry in this house.

"It's okay," Rosalie thinks she says, "I shouldn't have said that."

Alice doesn't speak for a while, until she comments on the bookshelf. "You mixed it up. How's it arranged?"

"By year." Rosalie tears her gaze from space.

"Why?"

"I don't know." But she does. And she thinks of soccer balls and dimples when she shrugs.

…

Her notes are perfect, as usual. It has to be.

...

" _What is this?" White teeth snarl at her. "No daughter of mine gets a B on her report card!"_

 _Rosalie, young, seven years old, shudders at her mother's voice. "I'm… I'm sorry, mommy, I didn't mean to. I'll try harder."_

 _Her mother pushes her to the ground. "You will learn that failure has its consequences. Your uncle will deal with you."_

 _People hear the cries, but nobody dials for the police._

 _..._

"Hey, neighbor." Bella comes up behind her, bumping into her playfully. "How are you today?"

How can one person be so unbearably annoying. Rosalie fights to ignore her, but a sneer slips around her mouth.

"Oooh," Bella sighs, sits down and takes out a pen. "Touchy, is the answer."

"Okay, class." Mr. Banner adjusts the glasses on his face. "We have our semester project coming up." He holds up a sheet of paper. "You'll make a PowerPoint presentation about the biome you are assigned. And _no_ ," he finishes, "you cannot pick your partners, you will be working with your lab partner."

The words instill a whole other level of terror inside Rosalie. The class groans in disappointment, but Rosalie's ears are ringing.

"Well, I guess you're stuck with me." Bells shoots her a smug grin.

 _She did this._

" _I hate you._ " She hisses at Bella, watching the smirk grow larger, "You are the bane of my existence."

"Oh sweet girl." Bella whispers, leans in closer. Rosalie can smell her perfume, can feel the warmth radiating from her. "You haven't even given me a chance to woo you yet." She leans back, rakes a hand through her hair, and her jersey slips to one side, muscle flexing underneath skin.

Rosalie wants to fucking _die._

…

"Rose!" Bella calls after her, ignoring the stares, and slides up next to her locker. "We have a project to talk about."

"No, we don't, I'm requesting a partner change."

Bella rolls her eyes. "You've already tried that, like right in front of me. Rude, by the way."

"Yeah, it's because I want to snap your neck."

Bella smirks, lets out a low laugh. "That's kinky," Bella steps closer, and Rosalie watches in bewilderment as Bella places a hand on her arm. "I'll tell you what," she trails fingers down slowly, leaving fire in their wake. "You tell me about your kinks, and" she leans up, mouth at the edge of the blonde's ear and whispers, "I'll _show_ you mine."

The world tilts off its axis for Rosalie, the hot and heavy fire down at the bottom of her stomach rages to her cheeks. Something like the sound an animal dying escapes the back of Rosalie's throat. She rips her arms away, slams her locker shut and damn near _sprints_ to the door leading to the parking lot.

 _What. The. Fuck. Was. That. What in the whole shit is even going on right now?_

…

Later that night, when Rosalie's shoulders are still shaking, she remembers the burn in her abdomen, the hunger that followed.

She spends hours reorganizing her music library. Tries to forget the fire.

Hates, hates, hates, herself when she can't. Hates, hates, hates, herself for being disgusting.

" _You see them, Rosalie?" Her mother points to a couple, watches them kiss. "They are wrong, they are from the devil. A woman shall never lie with another woman. It is imperfect."_

She drowns herself in Jack Daniels until the fire is in the back of her throat.


	3. the art of attention and insults

**In order for you guys to read this chapter, you absolutely have to imagine kill bill sirens going off in Rosalie's head when Bella is involved**

* * *

"...When I left you you were young  
I was gone but not my love  
You were clearly meant for more  
Than a life lost in the war" - Youth, Glass Animals

...

Rosalie comes to school chin held high, raging hangover churning against the backs of her eyes.

She did this to herself.

Alice was the one who had to wake her, nose scrunching at the broken bottle glass on the floor.

"Rose," Alice warns, voice low and steady, silver eyes not betraying an inch of emotion. "You have to stop."

"I know." And she does, she does know. Her mouth is numb and combing through her hair feels like hell. "I just-"

And Alice knows this, too. Knows why it's hard for her to stop, knows that when it gets hard, that's all Rosalie feels like she has.

"You - you said you would tell me if it got like that again."

"She ruining me, you know?" Rosalie pulls on a shirt, inspects the damage of her rib cage before pulling it down all the way. "She, it's like, it's like God put her here, next to me, to punish me, because I'm something doing wrong. Because I'm disgusting."

 _"Hey,"_ Alice snaps, voice too big, voice too sharp. "You are _not_ disgusting. You are normal and valid and I love you." When Rosalie doesn't respond Alice hisses at her, "Do you think I'm gross and wrong?"

Rosalie freezes, looks at her with horror. "Of course not! What you feel is perfectly natural!"

"Maybe my sexuality isn't even real, huh? Maybe I need to just pick one? Don't you think?"

Alice's anger is cold and sharp, turns the air a thousand degrees colder.

But Rosalie's is an inferno, fire ripping through the streets of her carefully carved life and habits. Her anger is biting teeth that are far too sharp. Her anger is like taking a baseball bat to the stomach over and over again. Her anger is hot and raw.

She combats Alice's frost now. _"Alice. Quit. Now._ "

She does, but clenches her jaw in the process.

"That isn't what I said." Her words are still volcanic ash, but she puts her teeth back behind her lips. "You _know_ why I think the way I do about myself. _You know why."_

Alice sighs, her lithe body unaccustomed, to her own anger. She wasn't built for war, after all. "I'm sorry," soft, sad smile. "I know. I'm sorry." She holds out her arms, an invitation, a "can we please not fight?"

But Rosalie isn't done talking. She turns away, pulls on a pair of pants and sighs. "Amazing how one person makes me feel so much emotion at one time. God, it's like she knows every button to push."

Alice tilts her head to the side, confusion in her narrowed eyes. They widen, suddenly. Realization hitting her fast like a freight train. "Oh, my god. Really?"

Rosalie frowns at her, shuffling around for her glasses. "Can we, like, not repeat this ever to anybody."

"But-"

"I don't know Alice, she just manages to," Rosalie waves her hands around for emphasis. "She just does that _thing_ where she doesn't leave me alone and like flirts with me? I cannot handle it."

The smaller girl grins, tongue in her cheek. "You don't have to be embarrassed about finding her attractive. Edward does, too."

A CD flies at her head. "Alice, I'll literally eviscerate you one day."

…

Oddly, Rosalie doesn't see "The Pain" for a large part of the day. Not even hints of her; no sound of a soccer ball bouncing off lockers, no awed whispers. Nothing.

No sign of her in the lunchroom with her friends. And she's definitely not on the field. Not that she's looked or anything.

"God," Lauren snarls. Rosalie tunes in to their conversation. "I can't believe she came out as gay. I won't be able to listen to her songs now without thinking that she's a carpet muncher!"

Rosalie's face falls flat, a hint of her fire leaking into her voice. "Excuse me, but I just realized that I can't be bothered with idiotic, close minded bitches like you three anymore." She stands, ignores the open mouths, and grabs her lunch tray. "Have a nice life in your cul-de-sac of homophobia."

She walks away after and feels chills settle across her shoulders.

…

For some reason, Rosalie isn't surprised to see Bella in the biology room.

But what does surprise her, is the lack of communication from the other girl.

"Wow, am I going to be able to _finally_ get some fucking work done today?" Rosalie pulls a chair out to sit, glaring at Bella. Who looks away from her, remains silent. Stunned, Rosalie turns to face the class.

 _What the fuck?_

Mr. Banner gives his lesson, speeding through and never taking the time to make sure his words are legible enough for them to take notes from. Rosalie's eyes twitch staring at the uneven lines of his handwriting but her mind isn't entirely focused on that at this moment in time.

What happened to the annoying and flirty girl Rosalie had been enduring for the past two weeks?

Rosalie turns her head as Mr. Banner is finishing up, handing them worksheets to work on for the last thirty minutes of class.

Finally, she gets her chance to speak.

"What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" The words come out hotter than Rosalie means them to, and she groans under her breath when the girl shrinks further into herself. _"What?"_ Rosalie hisses, and Bella flinches.

 _This is not the way to start a conversation with this girl._

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Bella whispers, guilt coating her voice. "That was very out of line and I promise I won't do anything like that again."

Rosalie wants to sigh, wants to slam her knee against every wall she could find. She wants to ask why she said those things if Bella was just going to turn around and apologize for it. But her head hurts, the rest of Jack Daniels throbbing against her skull. "It's fine." And Bella doesn't speak again.

…

She keeps her distance in the hospital, a flash of brown hair off of white linoleum walls.

Intentionally, she tracks her down, heels clicking hard against the floors in a way that instills fear into everybody in a five room radius.

"Isabella."

"Yes, Rosalie." She keeps her eyes down.

"Put these files away."

This time she doesn't speak, just takes the file and leaves.

 _I'm - I'm so mad. I'm so fucking mad I could have a horse baby right here in this fucking hallway._

That- That girl, that infuriatingly _hot_ girl doesn't just get to come in here and ruin every little thing Rosalie placed. And she definitely doesn't get to leave when Rosalie was getting semi used to the annoyance buzzing in her ear.

So, she does what any sane person would have done.

Gets her attention back.

…

"Hey, you blue footed fuck," Rosalie comes up behind her, flicking at her broad shoulders. Bella stiffens, turns around and looks at her. The very definition of confusion all over her face. "Yeah, I'm talking to you, you horse's ass. I need you to come with me to do this thing."

Bella doesn't speak but obliges, casting guilty looks towards the ground.

Rosalie sighs, "oh, so you're not talking to me today, huh?"

Like a storm, realization floods over Bella's face. "You're _such_ an ass fuck, Rosalie Cullen!"

…

They harass each other in school now. It's so much that Alice asks if they're friends.

"No." Rosalie says, spitting wadded up paper into Bella's hoodie. "I fucking hate that bitch."

And later, Rosalie will open her locker and a pile of spitballs fall out, coating her feet in saliva.

Let it be known that she wants to fucking end her life right there and then.

…

Rosalie looks at her shoulders, stares at the skin there, watching the muscles bunch and roll under her skin. She wonders if she's warm. Oh, but of course she is, Bella is radiating heat.

Bella notices her staring, and almost self-consciously plucks at her jersey. "Yeah… I know. The designs on these suck. I mean, there's at least three colors here that are decidedly _not_ Forks High colors. You should have seen mine from Phoenix! Those were really cool, looked a lot like Alex Morgan's actually."

Rosalie stares into her locker, trying to hide her blush from being caught staring.

Luckily Bella is just straight up stupid and wouldn't know what somebody checking her out looked like if it shoved its ass in her face.

"Well, it seems like you're a fan."

She doesn't look but she knows Bella is smirking _like that again_. "Well, yes, but it helps that she's hot.

Rosalie freezes, hands grip tight on the edge of her locker, the metal scratching in protest.

 _What? Is she, is she … gay? Gay? Homosexual? What?_

Rosalie isn't sure she heard her right. Or maybe she's overreacting. All girls compliment each other.

She startles and looks up. Whatever expression she held on her face led to a look of disappointment on the brunette's

Cool brown eyes turn icy, hard. "Don't tell me that you don't like gay people." Rosalie spies a little bit of hurt in her expression, too.

"No! No!, that's not what I said!" She hurries to say, tripping over her words. For some reason, it's important to Rosalie that Bella knows she's not a homophobe. "Alice is bisexual! I don't hate gay people!"

Bella's still frowning, though her eyes lose a little bit of their ice. "Then why _that_ look?"

"I-I just. Like, you're so open. This is a high school in a small town. Doesn't that scare you?

"It's a small town in _Washington_." She waits a pause, her angered frown turning into one of concern. "Does that scare _you_?

Rosalie might as well have crashed her car and died on the way to school. Surely that would have been easier than this. "No, because I'm not gay."

That annoying, slow, _sexy_ , smirk is back. Rosalie flushes immediately. "Rose, I didn't ask if you were."

 _Rosalie wants to fucking die._

Bella continues, watching her face with glee. "I meant, does that make you scared for Alice?"

 _Son of a bitch._

"And don't worry," Bella rolls her eyes. "I get it, you're an aggressive heterosexual woman."

Rosalie grabs a piece of paper from her hands, leans _real_ close, a seductive whisper falls out of her mouth. "Love, you don't know what I like."

And then, Rosalie winks one perfectly eyelash framed eye.

Without waiting for a reaction, Rosalie spins and slams her locker shut in one movement.

...

She considers driving her car off the bridge on the way home, where she takes her pictures down, and moves them five inches apart this time.


	4. the art of soccer games and bruises

**So, here's this!**

 **TW for mentions of abuse**

 **In which Rosalie is a gay baby who needs a hug**

* * *

" _When my time comes around  
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth  
No grave can hold my body down  
I'll crawl home to her" - Hozier, Work Song _

…

"Can you kindly _not?"_ Rosalie snarls as Bella, once again, tips her water bottle upside down to rest on its head. "Why do you constantly insist on ruining my life - every single day?"

Bella guffaws, something warm, gentle, but free all the same. "God, somebody is dramatic today."

Rosalie levels her with a glare that could melt glaciers. "I want you to die." She remembers how she spent six hours last night running through some old piano songs she knew and then giving up when nothing she played out sounded quite right - when the melody sounded happy in a song that decidedly wasn't. "Actually, I want to kill you myself."

Bella shrugs, carefree, jersey flexing around her shoulder muscles which Rosalie absolutely isn't looking at because … ew, that's gross. "Are you coming to my game tonight? It's the Civil War game."

"Why would I ever go to one of your stupid games?"

…

Rosalie wonders how she got herself into this situation.

Body odor fills her nose as sweaty teenage boys scream, their faces painted the color of Forks High, mouth wide and open. Rosalie looks on in disgust.

"Alright!" The principal comes out to the field, shoes a stark yellow and blazer a deep blue. "Let's have a nice game! Please cheer as our players enter the field!"

The crowd goes wild. The cheerleaders start flipping around as players spill out.

 _Their uniforms really, really, don't match the school at all._

Bella is the last one out. And she looks ready. The field lights glisten off of her hair, black paint under her eyes stick out against her pale, creamy skin. She was made for the sport.

"Wow," She hears Edward speak softly, "she's beautiful."

Rosalie rolls her eyes. "Oh, god." She's ignoring the catch in her breath as Bella flipped the ball over her head, an excited laugh falling out of her mouth.

"Who are we playing?" Rosalie whispers to Alice, who is decked out in yellow and blue, holding a sign that reads " _#24 WILL KICK YOU TO THE FLOOR AND SCORE! GO BELLA!"_

"Port Angeles, you goof."

Throwing her hands up, Rosalie scoffs. "How in the hell was I supposed to know?"

Emmett, shirtless with the letter B on his chest comes over and throws his arm around her shoulders. "That's why it's called the Civil War - it also is the homecoming game." In the same breath, he shouts. "GO BELLA! YOU'RE NUMBER 24 ON THE FIELD BUT YOU'RE NUMBER ONE IN MY HEART!"

Covering her ears from the sudden outburst, Rosalie swings her elbow out, hitting Emmett square in the gut.

"Hey! Rosalie, no hitting - you know better."

"Oh my god!" Disbelief colors her voice as both Esme and Carlisle join them, popcorn and drink in hand. "Even you?"

"Oh yeah! You better believe it, Rose." Carlisle turns around to give them a view of the back of his shirt. "#24 IS GOING TO KICK ASS!"

"Dad," Alice groans. "Nothing about that even rhymes."

Carlisle doesn't hear her over his own screams as the game kicks off.

Bella is at the middle of the field, a capital C on her shoulder and "SWAN 24" on her back.

The Captain on the other team, decked out in green and black, steps forward and gets into place. She says something to Bella, smile wide on her face.

Bella shakes her head, mouth moving in a joking manner. " _Yeah right,"_ Rosalie imagines Bella is saying. " _You haven't seen nothing yet."_ In response, the girl winks and blows a kiss. Something dark settles in the curves of Rosalie's stomach, something akin to rage lies there, a snarl threatening the corners of her mouth. She ignores the looks from Alice.

The whistle blows.

Bella, quickly, turns around and shouts commands to her players, a feral grin on her face as the ball comes onto the field. She yells again in an encouraging manner, it seems.

The whistle blows again and the referee tosses the ball in the middle.

Quick with her feet, Bella successfully manages to get the ball away from the other girl, and sideswipes it to a player behind her.

The roar from the audience blows her ears out, but even Rosalie whoops a little as Sandy, a girl in her forensics class, races it down the field, her powerful legs moving her along.

Bella sprints up next to her, pony tail flying about. "I'm open, I'm open!" Fluidly, Sandy passes it to Bella, who plays keep away with a girl on the opposing side.

The game continues on in a similar fashion as Rosalie tries to feign disinterest as she looks away from the muscles working over time in Bella's legs.

The clock starts counting down. Bella glances towards the clock over her shoulder. They're sitting at 2-1, Forks in the lead. A look of determination settles over her face. If at all possible, she pumps her legs faster, keeping the ball in a tight area between her cleats.

"What's she trying to do?" Rosalie leans over and asks Alice, shouting a little so that she could be heard over the crowd counting down along with the clock.

"I think she's trying to score!" Alice shouts back, eyes locked onto the game below them.

Incredulous, "With what -" She glances towards the clock. "With 10 seconds left?"

" _9!"_ The crowd screams. Bella dodges a player who kicks at her feet, flipping the ball over the both of them.

" _8!"_

"She's so far away! She'll never make it!"

" _7!"_

"Oh!" Carlisle laughs. "I wouldn't doubt her!"

" _6!"_ Bella spins around a girl who purposely fell down in front of her in order to prevent her from reaching the net. She trips a little but easily regains her footing.

Rosalie's heart is in her throat, hands clenching around the slack in her shirt. The anticipation, wondering if Bella was going to score or not was driving her wild. All around her, there are mixes of chants. Bella's name and the countdown blur into a mix of colors. The skin exposed as Bella sprints as fast as she can, the concentration etched in the divots of her eyebrows, the shaking of her thigh muscles.

 _Breathtaking._

" _3!"_

 _Fuck_

Rosalie shakes herself out of her thoughts, clenching her jaw against the growing panic. Bella was still too far away.

" _2!"_ The brunette stops, winds up her shot and then…

" _1!"_ The ball lands perfectly in the net, the goalie falling over herself in a severe miscalculation of the ball.

"Oh my fucking god!" Emmett screams. "She really did that!"

Edward, mouth agape, starstruck, mumbles something which Rosalie can't hear over the chaotic screaming of the crowd.

Bella's teammates pick her up and place her on their shoulders. Flushed, sweaty, with hair sticking to her forehead, Bella somehow finds her eyes among the sea of people and smiles in a way that says " _I thought you weren't coming?"_

Rosalie smiles back and sticks her middle finger in the air.

…

"What did you think?" Bella approaches her the next day, voice effectively shattering any peace and quiet Rosalie hoped to obtain in the staff lounge. She was trying to fit in some homework before the hospital needed her for something else.

"Of the new Batman movie? It sucked frankly. I wasn't impressed."

"No, smart ass!" Bella laughs, setting her bag down on the table, making it clear she wasn't leaving her alone any time soon. "Of the game."

"Boring." Except, Rosalie doesn't mean it.

"Really?" Bella cocks her head. "I don't think soccer is that boring."

Scoffing, the blonde says. "You're biased, though. You play soccer."

"Well, I mean." Bella sits down, takes off her jacket. Rosalie _doesn't_ watch as her shoulder bunches up and flexes. "I've played plenty of other sports before: flag football, softball, even volleyball-"

Rosalie's eyes go unfocused momentarily. The shorts Bella wore for soccer were short enough already. But volleyball shorts? Freckled and tan Bella in shorts that covered only the tops of her thighs? White fire settles in Rosalie's pelvic section. She has to stifle a groan behind her teeth.

"-and soccer isn't nearly as slow and boring as those sports… Hey, Rose? Are you listening to me?"

"Hmm?" Rosalie flushes, dragging her mind out of the gutter. "No, actually, your voice was grating on the last brain cells I had."

"Oh, please." Bella sighs. "Do I have to bring up the times where I looked over to you and your family and you were cheering just as hard as everybody else?"

"Well, you're wrong about that." She huffs, turns away and tries to refocus on her homework. "I was screaming because I was losing my damn mind."

Tiredly, Bella laughs, yawns, and stretches above her head. A flash of deep purple is revealed on her pale skin as she does. "Whatever you say-"

"Whoa." Fear aches along Rosalie's fingers, panic bleeds into her lungs. "What's this?" And without thinking, she grabs Bella's hips, fingers sliding under her shirt material to look. Immediately, warmth and something similar to electricity shoot up her arm. Distantly, she hears Bella gasp softly but memories of her own screams are ricocheting off the walls of her head.

" _Mommy! Please, no! It hurts! I can't breathe!"_

She remembers the pain of her own ribs snapping under the hands of her mother. Her smiles, while young Rosalie cried in pain, scream against her ears.

Fingers shaking, eyes wet, she takes a closer look at the bruise larger than her hand. "Are you okay?"

"Rosalie," hands with bitten nails cover her own. "It's okay, I got hit with the ball really hard in the first half of the game yesterday." Soft hands move to take Rosalie's cheek, the warmth and tingling sensation following. "Hey, hey, hey." Bella sighs softly, a finger sweeping under her eye. Rosalie's still thinking about porcelain floors and her mother's slurred insults and violence. "Why are you crying?"

" _Crying?"_ Rosalie wants to say, but her mouth isn't working. She looks up from the bruise and watches as Bella's brows knit tighter in concern and something else she can't place. Her mouth opens and closes, too aware of the warm hands on her face, far too present is the soft and creamy skin under her own finger tips. A garbled voice sounds from her lips. Tears soaking her collar bone.

"Shh." Bella steps forward, making the hands on her hips slide around to her back. Rosalie's hands are numb. "It's okay, you're okay." She wipes away another tear.

Shaking her head, Rosalie snaps out of Bella's hands and she shivers at the sudden absence of the extreme warmth covering her only moments before. She thinks she whispers out a " _I'm sorry."_

"Wait, Rosalie -" Bella reaches for her again, grabbing at air. "Please don't-"

Rosalie is out the door before Bella could finish her sentence.

…

She barely makes it home unscathed. She swerves in the road a couple times due to her tears blocking her vision. She gets honked at more times than she likes to admit but the pain in her chest kept her from caring completely.

Throwing her car into park, she stumbles her way up the porch steps and forces herself through the door.

"Mom!" She calls, hiccuping.

"Oh hey, dear." Esme comes around the corner, dish towel in hand. "What are you doing home so early? I thought you were volunteering today- Oh my god, baby, what's wrong?" Alarmed at Rosalie's puffy eyes and agonized expression, she rushes forward, wrapping her arms around the blonde's trembling shoulders.

Her legs give out. Falling to the floor, Esme goes with her, rocking her back and forth with a desperation only a true mother can feel. "It hurts - it hurts so, so bad. Make it stop, mom! Please!"

"I know, baby, I know. I'm so so sorry." Rubbing her hands down her daughter's back, she tries not to cry herself.

Rosalie had never completely opened up about the abuse she went through before the Cullens adopted her, and every once and a while, the feelings Rosalie keeps held in explodes. It's all Esme can do to not track down the people who hurt her so badly and kill them.

Alice comes around the corner with a blanket, having heard Rosalie's hysteric, hiccuping sobs and screams so painful they barely made a sound. She wraps the blanket around the both of them, softly removing Rosalie's clawing fingers from her hair.

Simply, Alice places a kiss on her head and settles down with them, and sings " _Edelweiss"_ into her ear.

Sometime, hours later, when Rosalie has screamed out all of her demons, she falls asleep. Emmett, with a forlorn look, carries her upstairs to rest on her bed.

She sleeps fitfully through the night.

…

On edge, Rosalie thunders out onto the field. "Really, Bella! I'm not sure why you insist on-" She cuts herself short when she sees the look on Bella's face. "What..?"

"You said my name." Bella whispers, mid-stretch, almost blissfully.

Rosalie growls and pinches the bridge of her nose. Ignoring how her Hell Brain is telling her that Bella looks hot in a muscle tee. "WHAT! What the fuck are you on about? I've said your name probably a hundred times by now."

"No," The brunette shakes her head, stands up and walks towards her with a slight misstep of caution. It's not like Rosalie made an attempt to hide her puffy eyes today. "No, you called me Bella."

The blonde freezes. And then, almost viciously, she throws a protein bar at Bella. It hits the sides of her cheek. "Eat this you stupid horse ass!"

"Thank you," Bella sighs. "I was actually starving." She hesitates opening it up though, and glances towards Rosalie's eyes. "Am… Am I allowed to ask how you're doing from yesterday?"

"No." Rosalie hisses. "Absolutely not."

"What if I do anyway?"

"I won't answer."

"How are you doing from yesterday? You looked very upset."

Glaring, Rosalie responds. "I don't know what you're talking about and if you tell anyone about what you're accusing me of I'll rip your head off."

"Fair enough," she chuckles, bending over to grab her bag and _oh god, her ass._

Open mouthed, Rosalie watches her perfectly sculpted ass bend over and pick up the rest of her soccer equipment. _Holy fuck…_ _Wait, what the fuck?_

Groaning once again, for a completely different reason, guilt overpowers the flustered heat. She needs to stop staring at Bella like a piece of meat. She needs to stop looking at girls like that in general.

" _Imperfect, Rosalie. They will go to Hell."_

"How, uh-" Rosalie coughs awkwardly, "How has your day been?"

Surprise flits over Bella's face for a second, and then it's gone with mirth replacing it. "It was okay, I didn't get to annoy you at all today though. These block schedules are weird. We didn't have that back at my old school."

"Yeah," Rosalie nods. "They implemented it last year. Once, I walked into my Thursday classes on a Wednesday schedule."

"Really?" Bella laughs

"Oh god, it was awful. I was so embarrassed. But nobody told me differently!"

"Did I tell you how on Monday I sat through what I thought was Advisory for a good 15 minutes before I looked up and realized I was in a class with a bunch of Freshmen?"

Rosalie starts to cry again, but this time it's because of laughter. Not because of the ghosts that whisper to her every time she walks.


	5. the art of almost and fries

_"We humans seem disastrously in love with this thing_

 _(whatever it is) that glitters on the earth-_

 _we call it life." - Anne Carson_

* * *

Bella is soft in the way she moves, delicate in the way she kicks the ball behind her feet, taps it to her teammate. Rosalie catches herself thinking about that, Bella's softness, especially in her hands. Freckles on the back, strong and sturdy but warm, too.

She's even softer with a slow tilt to her mouth, the gentle flash of her teeth as she talks. "I saw that you were at my practice last night."

"Interesting." Rosalie tries to be the opposite of gentle, the opposite of delicate. A grenade in a glass house, hopes to destroy and shatter, hopes to be everything that she is on the inside. Broken and rotten. "I don't seem to recall that." She's lying and they both know it. They made eye-contact one too many times for Rosalie's presence to be a fluke. "I don't have any reason to watch a bunch of sweaty teenagers run around."

"Or do you?" Bella shrugs under the heat of Rosalie's glare, thumbing the sharp edge of her collarbone. Her smirk is sly, fingers running along the edge of her neck, and Rosalie finds that her eyes chase where the dark haired girl draws. And of course she does, it's natural for her, like legos snapping together, magnets pulling one another. She bites her lip when Bella does, too. Shifts her weight when Bella readjusts.

The blonde rolls her eyes and turns her attention to the hospital files she was previously sorting. Countless manilla envelopes. One, two, three… one, two, three… three… three…

"How are you organizing these?"

"By color."

"W-What..?" Bella holds up an envelope, and then picks up others identical to it, shuffling through with furrowed brows. Holds them up towards the light, trying to find a difference. Of course, there isn't. "They're the same color."

"I mean," Rosalie shakes her head. It's odd, to try living outside of her own head. "I mean by names, and how those names are associated to color in my mind, and then I put them into one of three colored tabs." Bella is silent in confusion so Rosalie tries again, biting against the blush on her face. "So, like, Rachel Hansberry - she's red to me, in my mind."

"I-" Bella's eyebrows crinkle. "I'm really sorry but I don't know how to do that."

Rosalie shrugs. "I was just going to re-do your half anyway."

"Well, I'll just save you the trouble, then." Bella sets the rest of her half on top of Rosalie's, sits down.

A silence comes, one that makes Bella bounce her legs, tap her fingers. Normally, this wouldn't bother Rosalie, Bella is _weird_ and she's come to a reluctant acceptance with at least the fact that the girl can't handle silence. This time it bothers her in ways that are purely instinctual.

"God, will you just _fucking stop?_ " Rosalie hisses, spinning on her feet to glare at Bella, barely taking in the wide-eyed girl. "So. Fucking. Annoying."

Irritation cuts into Bella's dark eyebrows. "Somebody isn't having a very good day today."

"You're like a fucking dog. Needy and insistent." Rosalie continues without missing a beat, pretending not to have heard Bella's snide remarks. But she doesn't miss the way Bella dramatically throws her head back into her hands.

"Holy fuck, you're so mean to me. A dog? Really, a dog?" Bella groans. "Why am I so annoying, Rosalie?"

Slamming the filing cabinet shut, Rosalie turns to Bella again, something hot and raw eating away at her teeth. "It's just something you excel at." A plea almost, it breaks through the acidity of Rosalie's bite and she can't swallow her words fast enough. It shocks her when it does, but maybe she shouldn't have been so surprised. She's so tired, so, so, so tired and all she can think about doing is melting into the floor and rotting. Realization is quick to replace frustration on the shorter girl's face. And then guilt. Rosalie's hands start to shake, fury sparking along her joints. " _Fuck off, Bella!"_

"I'm sorry." This is soft, too. Soft in a way Bella hasn't usually been, soft in a way Rosalie hasn't ever felt. Guilt drips off of Bella's words. Rosalie doesn't miss the way Bella flinches when she screams at her, but she doesn't miss how Bella doesn't seem to care, either.

Fire starts to prickle at Rosalie's eyes and she turns away before anybody sees the cracks in the veneer. Behind her, the creak of the chair, and then the warmth from strong and sturdy hands find her elbow. "Rose." A hand at her belt loops, pulling, tugging until she's face to face with a set of eyes that have been haunting her since the beginning. Since the beginning of time, maybe. Of her life and of the universe. Like she's always been fated to fall into them, breathless and agonized. This was what she was made for.

Warmth is at her waist. Pink lips picked up into a smile, saddened curve around the edges. "Rosalie, I'm sorry for being annoying."

"It's okay," she says, or thinks she does. She decides she doesn't know anything with Bella so close to her, fingers caught in her belt loops, and Rosalie can smell the mint coming off of Bella's breath. "It's okay." She tries again, hoping to be more clear. But Bella doesn't look like she's heard. Mouth parted slightly, eyes flickering back and forth from hers, drops, drops, drops to her mouth and _oh._

And Rosalie is burning, falling through earth's orbit. Cheeks rot with heat as Bella's mouth parts more, a white flash of teeth coming out to press into the softness of her lower lip. The fingers on her arm tighten, the fingers in her belt loop twist and Rosalie knows this dance, knows to step forward, toes and feet moving and moving and she's so, so, so close -

Suddenly, the fingers are gone from her arm, untangled from her belt loops. Bella steps back with a sharp and short laugh, sounds like choking and Rosalie has half a mind to step forward, but she stills, arm still in place from where she had been holding Bella's back. Her palm tingles.

They stare at each other for a while, cataloging each other's chest rise and fall, the fluttering of Bella's eyelashes and the startled look on Rosalie's face.

"I'm…" Bella starts, tongue sneaking out to wet her lips. Rosalie's jaw clenches so hard that she's minutely worried about breaking a tooth. "I'm going to go see if Carlisle needs any help."

Moving around Rosalie, she's sure not to touch, watching Rosalie like one would a marble statue. Worried about the tumble, worried about the shatter. She closes the door softly behind her, too - careful of Rosalie's stone.

Breathing out, Rosalie collapses against the desk, hand to her chest. And she's left burning.

* * *

One step forward - a million steps back.

It's like that with them, Rosalie thinks. A complicated dance that hurts a lot more than it helps. Rosalie is usually the one to step away, Bella usually drags her back out, smiling and laughing and dark eyes lidded and shaded in a way that makes Rosalie groan into the back of her throat, nails digging just a little too sharp into her thigh.

 _It's not natural, lovely girl._

Her mother's disgusted sneers don't take the ache out of her stomach this time.

Rosalie finds herself at yet another one of Bella's practices, pulled out by Alice and Edward, eager to watch Forks's soccer star dribble out on the field. It's hot, Rosalie realizes as Bella rakes a hand through her hair, the sweat making some stick to her cheek, dripping down the column of her neck, catching on the sharp edges of her collar bone. Her jersey sticks to her just a little bit too well, and with every pass, a little bit more of Bella's shirt rides up more and more.

Rosalie's gaze wanders down, shorts just a little bit too taut, too - and she's watching the muscles flex and contract, like piano strings and it's so, so beautiful that Rosalie starts to wonder how they feel wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer. She bites her own lip so hard she's surprised it's still attached to her face.

It's surprising, too, when the coach blows his whistle, signaling the end of practice - so fast had it gone by that when Rosalie finally clicked and came back down to earth, her siblings had long gone. From the parking lot, she notices a missing Volvo next to her car.

Startled, Rosalie picks her head up from her hands, eyeing the emptiness around her. Then her eyes lock with familiar brown eyes and wry grin.

Bella leans over the railing, sweaty hair pushed back from her face, a water bottle in one hand, a rag in the other. When Bella sees that Rosalie is finally looking at her, her smile widens - it's an invitation. Rolling her eyes, Rosalie stands, legs stiff and cold, but she goes anyway, tries to keep a glare on her face, knows she's not successful.

"Hey." Bella leans her head against her arm, red cheeks pulsing. Rosalie is brought right back to the storage room, the metal against her back, Bella's hands around her, on her. Rosalie thinks about when she had licked her lips, stepped forward. Bella had stepped back. One step forward, a million back. "Take me somewhere to eat?"

"Of course not." Rosalie says.

* * *

Rosalie watches Bella over the rim of her paper cup, mouth curling in mild disgust while the other girl powers through her food, something akin to a hog. Rosalie takes great joy in telling her as much.

"You eat like a pig."

Bella stills, a handful of fries in her mouth, glances up at her a little sheepishly. She takes her time though, chews through the food, licks the salt off of her lips - which Rosalie absolutely does not look at her tongue when she does. "Sorry." Bella leans back, wiping her hands on a nearby napkin, one that had happened to be Rosalie's. Bella's own was currently under her plate, ketchup and mustard stained. "Soccer makes me really hungry."

Rosalie then watches as Bella reaches for another fry distractedly, eyes looking out the window. This fry had come out of Rosalie's box, and with a disgruntled roll of her eyes, Rosalie discreetly pushes it closer to Bella. Minutely, she thinks that Emmett and Bella would get along very well. He, too, had a habit of eating her food. It seems like Rosalie hadn't been very discreet however, because when Rosalie reached across the table to push the fries away, Bella's eyes are quick to find hers.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Rosalie." Bella is quick to push the box back, guilt and embarrassment evident. "I didn't even realize I was eating your food." A difference, then, between Bella and Emmett. Emmett didn't apologize for doing it.

Rosalie dismisses her with a wave of her hand, taking another sip from her cup. "Go ahead, I didn't find that they were that good, anyway." A lie. Rosalie had actually and exclusively picked this place for their homemade and hand cut fries. She especially liked how salty they were.

"Really?" Surprise, almost disbelief, flits across Bella's face before muttering, hand already back in the box. "I love Maria's fries." The dark haired girl touches a fry to her teeth before she stiffens, realization flooding her face. "Ah, Rosalie my wallet is in your car. Is it unlocked?" She asks, standing, tripping over her untied shoelaces. "I'll just run out and get it."

"Bella." A bated breath, trying not to show irritation. She was the one who had brought _her_ to lunch. "If you think that, for even one moment, that I'm going to let you get your cheese burger fingers _all over_ my new paint job - you're smoking crack." Making eye contact with Bella briefly, flicking her eyes to the bench. "So, please, sit back down." A pause. "And tie your shoes."

So she does, her tone clearly leaving no room for argument. But of course, Bella's stupid in the head and doesn't know when to let things go.

"Rosalie, you didn't order as much as I did." Bella tries. Another fry makes it into her mouth. "That's not really fair."

Rosalie just quirks an eyebrow, goes back to drinking her water. There's an awkward silence for a while, and Rosalie takes great pleasure in watching Bella squirm, jiggling her knees. After a few minutes of Bella looking after her helplessly, Rosalie figures she should play nice, and she readjusts the napkin holder so it's lined up with the end of the table. "So, tell me about Arizona."

The relief that floods over Bella's face is palatable, and she starts with a small laugh. "Imagine Washington, but, opposite." At Rosalie's unamused silence, she continues. "Warm, _hot,_ sunny. Where there is moss here, there's sand there. Arizona has cactus and we have trees."

Rosalie nods. "Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes." Bella shrugs, fiddles with the bottom of her sleeve. "I never had to worry about rain during games, which was the nice part, I guess."

"It does sound nice." And the blonde finds herself sighing. In general, she really didn't mind living here, in Forks. She didn't mind the rain, or even the cold, what she minded was the darkness that followed. A near, constant, suffocating darkness - it affected her more than she'd like to admit.

"It is nice." A dark look passes over the girl's face before she turns back to Rosalie, offers a smile that has the blonde's stomach churning. "So, do you like Washington?"

Rosalie considers it for a moment, straw against her teeth, watching the rain fall against the window. "Sure."

"Sure?"

Shrugging, Rosalie sits back, hands folding across her chest. "It's better than where I was living before. The rain isn't so bad after a while." The darkness though, the darkness…

Bella, unconsciously it seems, sits back and folds her arms over her chest. Rosalie catalogs the way Bella crosses her legs when Rosalie does, licks her lip when she does, and has to smile. What a ridiculous pair they are.

One step forward - a million steps back. It's nice, at least, that the one steps span a mile wide.


End file.
